


Lonely, but not alone

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Ghost Castiel, abstract smut idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:10:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5070304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cold air brushed against the back of her neck like fingertips, dragging her hair aside and sending a tingle down her spine. Smiling, Meg shrugged off her jacket. She was shivering from the cold, goose bumps stippling her arms, but she liked to be able to feel him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely, but not alone

Meg dropped her backpack onto the dusty moldering hay scattered around the loft and plopped down gracelessly to lay on her back with her feet dangling over the edge. There was a hole in the old barn roof, well there were probably a few holes but there was one right above her that she could see the stars through. It was getting cold already, even though it wasn’t November yet. Tugging her leather jacket tighter around her body, she swung her feet back and forth and waited.

Sitting up, Meg pulled a Budweiser from her backpack and cracked it open, resting back on one hand as she sipped. It was deadly quiet out here. Even though she lived in a pretty rural area, there was always noise going on, traffic, wildlife, the creek behind her house. But out here, nothing.

Loudly crunching the empty beer can in her fist, she dropped it onto the loft floor and fished out another. The air temperature plummeted suddenly and she could see her own breath fogging in front of her face as she cracked another beer open.

“Nice of you to finally show, Clarence.”

She didn’t get an answer. Sometimes he talked back to her, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes, she could even see him, but he told her it took a lot out of him to make himself show up like that. Finishing her second beer, Meg chattered on about school and her dad and music and nothing really important. It was nice to know someone was listening, even if they didn’t talk back.

Cold air brushed against the back of her neck like fingertips, dragging her hair aside and sending a tingle down her spine. Smiling, Meg shrugged off her jacket. She was shivering from the cold, goose bumps stippling her arms, but she liked to be able to feel him.

A lot of the time, it only felt like some kind of fog crawling over her skin, it was almost damp but maybe that was the cold of it. It was weird as hell, but she felt closer to him when he shivered over her skin like a breath.

Scooting back up in to the loft away from the edge - she knew he didn’t like her sitting close to the edge like that - Meg opened her jeans and lay back on the scratchy hay. She kept telling herself she’d bring a blanket but she never did. If she were being honest with herself she kind of got off better when she wasn’t comfortable, when it hurt a little, made her squirm.

Bunching her shirt up at her arm pits and unclasping her bra to tug it half way off, she lay back in the hay and slid her hand down under her jeans. She could feel him solidifying, coalescing into a more corporeal form, the slight shiver of fog that rippled over her skin becoming solid, something that could press and leave indents in her skin of fingertips. Smiling, she looked around the loft and tried to coax him out.

“Been a while since you shown your face around here Clarence, hasn’t it? Gonna leave a girl hanging like that?”

Something forcefully tugged her bra off and flung it aside. In the silver moonlight she could see a flicker, could just barely make out the edges of someone hovering beside her but it was gone as quick as it had came. She gasped when she felt the touch of something ice cold against a nipple, tugging. Limbs shivering when the chill burrowed down into her bones, Meg whimpered and rubbed her fingers down between the folds of her slit and honed in on her clit as she felt the faint pressure squeezing her breasts.

It was weird, he could be so many different sort of things, and sometimes Meg wondered just how much he could control it, how much of it was concentration or something else, she wondered if he’d ever just fade and not be there anymore. Sometimes he was just a whisper in her ear, sometimes a wisp of sensation, sometimes pressure or an engulfing sort of sense of being wrapped up, sometimes he felt kind of like a jello sliding over her skin and sometimes she swore she could feel fingers, could feel the body of the boy he used to be when he coalesced enough to look like one.

She misheard his name the first time he told her. Castiel. Well, it was kind of hard to puzzle out a name when he sounded like static. By now, she just liked calling him Clarence. Meg could remember every single detail of him when he showed himself to her the first time. His head tipped at an angle like he was trying to look like a bird but she didn’t know then that was because he’d fallen out of the loft and snapped his neck. Wild dark hair tousled, stuck through with straw, pale lips and pale skin like you’d expect from some horror story ghost. But other than that he just looked so normal. A coarse white button down held up with suspenders and brown tweed pants. Looked like something from a different era, and he was.

Cas had told her that his older brother was just playing a prank on him, didn’t mean to scare him so bad he scurried back hard enough to trip and fall over the loft edge. It wasn’t supposed to happen. He was okay with it now, after so long. But still, he couldn’t seem to leave.

Meg wondered what it was like not to have a body. If he saw things weird. If he could still smell. If he could taste.

Cas was a funny ghost. Strangely polite and kinda sweet.

Clenching her jaw against the violent shiver that wracked through her body when it felt like he was pushing his fingers down between her ribs, Meg arched off the loft floor and thrashed. The sensation fled as fast as it had come on. It was like he didn’t know sometimes that her body had limits, or maybe he just had a hard time controlling herself. It was so fucking strange, to feel like he could just push himself inside of her body, but Meg loved how it made her feel….. out of control, not her own, something… something else.

Faintly, she heard a ripple of static noise and blinked into the dark night to see Cas struggling to manifest. His blue eyes were bright in the moonlight through the roof, his smile wide as he flicked and dimmed, flicked and filled out.

“Well look at you. I might mistake you for a real boy.”

“Hello, Meg.”

Nudging her thighs apart, he knelt between them and ran his hands up her smooth belly, leaving goose bumps in their wake and making her twitch with the shivers again.

“Good to see your face, sometimes.”

“It is. It takes so much out of me.”

“That’s all right.”

Meg started shoving her pants down, hand slick with her own wetness, the straw scratching at her ass and thighs but it barely registered because she was going numb from the cold.

Cas always looked at her like he was so goddam hungry and even though she loved to actually see his face Meg didn’t think she could look at that all the time, that intense focus in his eyes that she felt so lost in.

His fingertips trailed up her calves, palms curving around her thighs, and it didn’t really feel solid enough to be hands, it had give to it, molding around her and almost feeling like it was sliding under her skin, somewhere between fog and flesh. When he curved over her to kiss her stomach Meg reached up for him even though she knew she could never really touch him. His touch on hers could skim the surface but she always went right through him. It felt like a swarm of bees when she stuck her hand inside him the first time, a multitude of stinging pinpricks.

Instead, her hands hovered over his and he followed her suggestion, up, over her hips. Just like that. Strangely enough, this dead boy that didn’t even have ears and she couldn’t always see, he listened to her better than any real boys ever had. Maybe she should try harder to fit in with her peers, whatever, maybe she shouldn’t spend every weekend at the old haunted farm where kids dared their friends to spend a night and Meg had but then she decided to keep coming back, and back. But she didn’t really care, because he gave her the attention and the sense of belonging she hadn’t really found anywhere else.

And the things he could do to her body. She didn’t even know what to call it. If it was somewhere between sex or masturbation or something else entirely. The shiver cold trail of his tongue laving down her stomach and kissing the insides of her thighs, she was addicted.

Pushing her hips up off the floor, heels dug in with her jeans still scrunched and trapped keeping her movement limited, Meg rolled her hips and whined. She could see him smile, see the glint of white between pale cracked lips and the glimmer in his eyes when she gave herself up to him like this, naked and wanting and unashamed.

“Please…”

Dipping down between her legs, she felt the chill rolling off him leeching out her body heat. There was pressure and aching cold that bit like teeth, like a flash of frostbite settling in instantly. His tongue felt almost slimy, this weird drag that lingered and made her tingle, this gelatinous sort of texture that made her squirm. But he could lap at her, suck at her, seep into her body and light her up with frigid heat burning so intense she couldn’t stop writhing and panting and pleading his name.

Fingers, tongue, that static flick of energy and that wispy way his fog seeped around her, something else, foreign and other and utterly incomprehensible to the mind, he invaded her and animated her. A puppet, something for him to fill, to make into more, into other as well. It felt like he crawled up inside her, through all her cracks, those soft fleshy spaces and skin so tight across bone and the hollow bend of joints. He seeped in to her unrelenting. Pulsed through her, ice in her veins and fog in her lungs and static in her mind and she was numb, numb.

Clouds passed over the near full circle of the silver moon through the hole in the roof and they glowed from the backlight all silver limned in yellow and amorphous.

Meg blinked.

Clouds shifted and moved across the sky.

Groaning, she rolled on to her side, hay sticking to her back, pants tangled around her ankles and shirt bunched up under her armpits. She felt like there was a residue all over her skin, this crackling thin layer he left behind that pulled tight and prickled.

A laugh burbled up as she shimmied her pants up and sat, running her fingers through her tangled hair.

“You still there Cas?”

Her breath fogged in front of her and there was a crackle in the air, a flicker of his form smiling at her.

“…barely… Meg…”

“So that was something huh. I was thinking about crashing here for the night. You know, if you don’t got somewhere else to be.”

“…course… not….. please. Stay.”

She had no idea where her bra had gotten off to. Tugging her shirt down, Meg grabbed her jacked and hung it over her shoulders. She was trembling with the chill and could hear her teeth rattle when she wasn’t talking. But she didn’t want to leave. She wanted him to wrap her up and keep her here the whole night through.

Bunching her backpack into a lumpy pillow, Meg curled on her side and pulled her jacket tight around her shivering body. She felt a weight, a presence, behind her as it thinned and draped over her. She wasn’t too sure if he could actually leave this barn, he never even made it as far as the burned down husk of the farmhouse when she asked him to come out farther with her, but she knew he could flick out and disappear into somewhere else, somewhere she couldn’t feel him or hear him.

He didn’t though. When she staid, he staid. Cold and incorporeal but undeniably present.

Meg wasn’t too sure why. But she figured, maybe ghosts got lonely too.


End file.
